


Down an Aisle in Russia

by MistyBeethoven



Series: "Yes, I Really Am This Pathetic!" or "How to Say I Love You with a Story or Picture" [88]
Category: John Wick (Movies)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Babies, Breastfeeding, Christmas, F/M, Fatherhood, Kidnapping, Lactation, Love, Love Stories, Marriage, Motherhood, Omega Verse, Oral Sex, Orthodox Christmas, Overweight, Parenthood, Pissed off Papa, Proud parent John Wick, Rescue, Rescue Missions, Revenge, Russia, Self-Indulgent, Self-Insert, Twins, Wedding Night, Weddings, Weight Issues, post pregnancy sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:48:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28615338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistyBeethoven/pseuds/MistyBeethoven
Summary: Having successfully rescued our newborn children and me from the Elder, John Wick and I make plans to marry in Russia on Orthodox Christmas.However, when Abram Tarasov kidnaps the twins as an act of retribution for John having killed his brother and nephew, and also in defiance of the Baba Yaga's new appointment as Elder, my enraged Alpha intends to rescue the babies before the ceremony begins and have them back safely in time to witness their parents wedding before I even find out!A sequel to "Across the Fiery Desert and Under a Blood Red Moon."
Relationships: Abram Tarasov & John Wick, Aurelio & Sofia (John Wick), Charon & Winston (John Wick), John Wick & Winston, John Wick/Me, Sofia (John Wick) & Me, Winston (John Wick) & Me
Series: "Yes, I Really Am This Pathetic!" or "How to Say I Love You with a Story or Picture" [88]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1589944
Kudos: 5





	1. On a Bed in Paris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John Wick, the babies and I arrive in Russia along with our wedding party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another one meant to be a one shot but turned into a multi chapter deal. It was just supposed to feature a wedding and then a big wedding night love scene. Then Abram popped up and said he wanted to wreak a little havoc please.
> 
> So, I said okay.
> 
> And besides, it allowed me to post this today and not overdo it. I've been having health problems.
> 
> Admittedly I ripped off my Freaked Christmas story with the kidnapping of the babies. But I heard George Hamilton once say his soap opera writing friend just constantly rotated the same storylines on the various soaps he worked on. And it was too good of an opportunity to miss having John Wick go into mad papa mood!

I was to become John Wick's wife.

That fact took a little while to sink in. Having been rescued from the Elder and given birth to our two children, I had been so relieved and at peace that it was only after we were safely taken out from the desert and returned to civilization that I truly realized that my Alpha had proposed and wanted me not only as his Omega but as his wife as well.

I did not want my marriage ceremony to John Wick to be a massively overblown affair, complete with all the splendor that those whom served him kept pressuring us to have. And yet I didn't want to get married at the Continental, as Winston was continually suggesting or the Tarkovsky Theatre, as the students of the Director kept battling for. While I longed to give the latter my consent, for their mistress whom had died to save John and my own children, Helena and Marcus, I also loathed to say no to Winston, the Godfather of the twins.

And yet, a part of me didn't want to get married in either place, wishing for an event which was both small and special, like my introduction to John Wick had been.

"Don't let it bother you," John said, kissing my forehead. He held me from behind, both of us lying on a bed in the Queen's suite of the Paris Continental a few days after my rescue from the Elder's hands. I'd been fretting over the question of where our marriage was to take place, as the hotel was filled with ballerinas, vagrants, one mechanic, a conceirge, a displaced Moroccan Continental manager, her right hand man and one _highly_ critical Englishman.

"I'm destined to let someone down, though, either way," I sighed. "I hate that!"

My Alpha grunted behind me and I turned to look back and up at him. "What's so funny."

"With my new job, it's a given I always let someone down," he revealed.

"Oh," I said, feeling bad that I hadn't remembered that and also silently amused that John Wick could look at the new role thrust upon him as just another job. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he said nuzzling the side of my cheek with his chin and then kissing it tenderly. "What would you really like?"

I took a deep breath and then confessed it, almost ready for one of the babies to start crying from their crib and interrupt me, demanding their supper, as they were fond of doing these days. "I want a church wedding. My mom and dad were married in front of the fireplace in my grandparents' home. I never really liked the idea of that. She also wore this blue pants suit as her wedding dress...it was pretty but I used to look at it and know I wanted a white wedding dress...although you kind of spoiled the meaning behind it, John Wick," I teasingly accused and he held me tighter, showing his lack of remorse.

"But...I don't want too many people there...well you and I and the babies, of course. And my sister, Winston, Charon, Ivy...Aurelio and Sofia. Maybe the Bowery King, so he isn't too offended, but that's about it."

I looked to the end of bed and saw the dirty look a certain pit bull was giving me from the floor. "Oh and Hal too," I added which seemed to appease the offended canine. "I want something quiet and beautiful," I added.

"Like you," John Wick said and I squirmed shyly in his arms.

The first word fit me, that was true. But I still didn't feel very beautiful. I hated to think of what the world both above and below the table was currently thinking of John Wick's chosen mate following the stunning and sucessful Helen. My weight was probably another factor which made people wonder if the assassin had lost his mind by choosing me above all the other possible and willing choices.

Yet, John Wick was still lying contendedly behind me, his chest pressed against my back and his arms strong around that same round tummy that was bringing about deep rooted insecurities, as if he didn't give a damn what anybody thought.

Which, knowing John, he probably didn't.

But it still bothered me what other people would think and whisper behind his back now that the truth was revealed.

"You deserve better," I said.

"No, that's you," he argued.

I took the hand below my milk filled breasts and squeezed it. "I've got the best already."

"Well, same here," John retaliated with another kiss. His thumb brushed against one of my nipples as he tried to rub my hand and I experienced a sexual longing for my Alpha. It was too early yet, a limit of three weeks had been set for the next time we could make love. Which would be roughly around January 7th, the date that the Orthodox celebrated Christmas.

Suddenly an idea occurred to me that appealed to my romantic sensibilities and Jardani Jovonovich's own history.

"John, maybe it would be nice to get married on Orthodox Christmas," I suggested. "Maybe since we're in the vicinity and in honor of your heritage..."

My mate made a noise of approval as he began to see my reasoning.

"We could get married in Russia," I finished.

The assassin hugged me tighter. "I like that; I think I know just the place."

"You do," I said, looking back towards him again. "Do you care to tell me where?"

"It's a secret," he said, teasingly and then kissed the tip of my nose.

"But what about Winston and the others?" I reminded him.

"They'll abide by the decision," he said confidently.

We stared at one another. It was a look filled with our love and with gratitude at the realization that we were together again: skin touching skin. Suddenly, all too aware of that last part, our mood changed from one of comfortable relaxation to urgent desire. Our lips met hungrily and I shifted in my lover's embrace to face him. John's hands were gentle on me but I could tell that he wanted to hold and touch me in the way that he had before, without restraint. Holding back was as hard for him as it was for me. He was a man of softness but violence was equally in his veins and character and he was used to seeing his prey and being able to have it. Wisely he had chosen, in me, at least this time, someone whom did not mind his less than gentle moments.

I wanted his roughness, his hands on me, letting himself loose on my body but, frustratingly I was forced to deny him what we both wanted.

Knowing a way I could satisfy his need in some small way, I began to lift his tshirt and kiss his chest, letting my lips trail down his stomach and to where I felt the Alpha's desire more readily displayed and waiting.

He stroked my head as my fingers found his swollen length, freed it and started to help it to become even more filled with the Alpha's desire.

John Wick moaned, grabbing the back of my head and rubbing it as he knew gave me pleasure.

I loved the taste of John Wick; his precum beginning to fall on my tongue, I loved feeling his member on that searching part and against my lips. However the area of me healing following having given birth desired the cock now filling my mouth just as much. I could not wait to feel him sliding his length within my moist, deep walls and returning to the place where he had been the first to claim.

I looked up to meet John's eyes, his face wracked with the physical bliss I was giving him and my own arousal grew stronger. When he opened his eyes to find me watching him, he made a deep guttural noise and soon my mouth was filling with more than just the fluid marking his coming but his cum also, as well. I let it coat the walls of my mouth and my tongue before letting it fall down my throat, marveling at the fact that that very seed had helped to create the two babies fast asleep and unaware of what their loving parents were doing only feet away from them.

Finished one of the only acts of love that it was currently safe for me to do, John gently pulled me on top of him and kissed me passionately. Traces of his cum was still on my lips and tongue but he accepted it back inside of himself while his hands, sensuously felt the soft, full side swells of my breasts. I was feeling aroused free from my sanity and wanted him desperately, but there was still pain felt there. Reluctantly, when the kiss was over, I could only rest my head on his broad chest. John stroked my hair and offered me the words which once had frightened him to utter, incase they tempted fate, but now were said often and bravely.

"I love you."

"I love you," I confessed. "Forever."

John Wick looked down at me, well pleased. "Now get some rest," he stated.

I kissed his chest and closed my eyes suddenly very tired.

Soon Marcus began to stir in the crib, however, announcing that it was time for his own feeding and that there were still those whom were above heeding the new Elder's decrees.

* * *

"I do not mean to incur yet another dock in pay, sir," Charon stated hesitantly as he studied his employer. "But I would be amiss if I failed to comment on how ridiculous you look in that hat."

It was January 6th, both little Christmas and the Epiphany, as Erin had pointed out to him, John thought, and Erin, Charon, Winston and himself were standing on a train station in Moscow, the Englishman earning the stares of all the passerbys from the toweringly tall and furry thing on his head. It was almost as tall as Winston himself, resembling the tower of babel perched upon his cranium, and John found himself agreeing with the concierge. Constantly stealing glimpses of his Omega, whom was trying her best not to laugh, John knew that she felt the same without even having to speak telepathically.

"It is called a ushanka, Charon," Winston bristled. "And when one visits another country, it is appropriate to dress accordingly."

John looked around and saw hardly anybody dressed as outlandishly as Winston, but kept his mouth shut, making sure instead that Helena was dressed warmly enough. She looked up at him with Erin's large gray-green eyes and he bundled her up even tighter and held her closer to his heart.

"You're not in a fashion magazine, Winston," Sofia stated emerging with Aurelio, whom had become the woman's constant shadow since they had left Morocco.

"You aint in the circus either," the mechanic stated. "You look like a clown."

"Ariel!" Winston suddenly exclaimed, using the endearment he had chosen for John Wick's soon to be bride. "Come to your Prospero's defense."

Erin stifled her wide smile, trying to hug Marcus nearer to her incase she quickly needed to use the infant as a mask should it reappear. "You look regal," she said. "The black brings out your eyes."

"See," Winston said and strutted forward.

John looked down at his Omega as she quickly pushed her head into his arm to hide a face which was close to breaking out into hysterical laughter.

"Now where is that limo," Winston complained. "I specifically requested the Moscow Continental send one to greet us _immediately_ upon our arrival. I assure you I run a far more efficent hotel. Why infact..."

The New York Continental manager was still critcizing his far distant competitor as John Wick saw Hal walk over and sit by Erin's feet.

Aurelio looked at the pit bull and stated, "You sure Hal shouldn't be in quarantine, John? You know they have those rules for a reason."

"He'll be fine," Wick replied back calmly. He was finding it even more easier than before to sidestep certain regulations since he had become the new Elder. Although being the Baba Yaga, those rules had never been too rigid for him anyway.

However, it had shocked him how the news that he was the new One Above the Table had spread and been accepted. That seeming acceptance worried him infact. Things were too quiet in these first days of his being appointed and the Baba Yaga expected some act committed in defiance against it.

The Alpha looked to his mate again and her eyes met his, asking inside of his mind, _"Are you all right?"_ because she could sense his worry and did not want to embarrass hi.

"Hopefully," he replied, knowing that the answer relied solely on her and his childrens' welfare. If something were to happen to any of them he would be as far away from all right as the sun was from the moon.

* * *

When the limo eventually arrived, we listened to Winston tear a shred off of the driver for a solid five minutes before he allowed us to even enter the transportation to the Moscow Continental. The older man, at least, looked more satisfied as we all sat down on the plush seats and I saw him smiling in something bordering on smugness while Aurelio obviously tried to flirt with Sofia, whom was having none of it.

 _"She's going to throw him out the back window,"_ John said to me.

 _"No, she likes him,"_ I said. _"Look at the way her knees are kind of leaning in to him. She's just afraid of letting him know she's interested...afraid he will hurt her if she gets too close. Have they located her daughter yet?"_

 _"In the process,"_ John informed. _"Seems like she was hidden a little too well away from the Table."_

I looked at Helena Daisy in John's arms and Marcus Igor in mine and frowned, dreading the thought of anything happening to them. Along with John they were my life. Trying to fight away my feeling of anxiety, I thought of the other most important person in my life. _"Will my sister be here for tomorrow?"_

John nodded. _"She was easier to locate."_

I smiled and kissed him shyly infront of the others.

We drove a little while before my Alpha motioned me to look out the window. "St. Basil's...the most famous church in Russia. Some argue the world."

Winston laughed. "Mostly the Russians."

I looked out to see a building I had seen often but never thought I would see outside of Boney M's Mary's Boy Child video.

"It's beautiful, John!" I exclaimed.

"You like it?"

"Incredibly!" I said enamoured by its bright fabulous colors and its orb like spires. It was something out of a fairy tale and I thought once more of the matroska dolls.

"Good. Because we're getting married there tomorrow," John Wick suddenly announced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Keanu;
> 
> Guess what? I got my Orthodox Christmas doughnuts anyway! The shop was open, after all! And I feel like I had something else to tell you but I have forgotten! Augh!!!
> 
> If you read this, please don't miss out on the final part of my year in review also posted today. The year in preview is set for tomorrow if I can get it done in time! 😁
> 
> Much love,  
> Erin  
> XO XO  
> :D <3


	2. In the Heart of a Vengeful Brother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abram Tarasov desires to wreck upon John Wick the same curse his brother's former guard left him with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Groundhog Day everyone!
> 
> Sorry for the long time updating. If you pay attention to the other entries in this series, you'll know that I've been having heart troubles since after Christmas. It was easier to take my mind off of it to focus on other stories than the previous ones, for some reason. But I intend to finish everything. 
> 
> My heart was feeling better until this evening where I suffered a bit of a relapse. I overdid it. Still it's better than it was and I have my stress test on Thursday, so hopefully I'll know what's going on after it.
> 
> Plus, I'm back to fasting which seems to help. I stopped after my sleep test and around Christmas. The nice sleep Doctor had suggested I not fast but just skip breakfast each day to limit my calories. The problem is I already did that. Infact, I skip both breakfast and lunch. So, a 5:2 36 hour fast seems to be helping. 
> 
> Another hindrance to my writing has been the biting cold! Everytime I start typing my fingers and hands start to freeze! Remind me to ask Keanu what it was like for him facing these darn Canadian winters. Abram's sentiment at the end of this story was an in joke in regards to how I feel. I hope those groundhogs have good news for us all! :/
> 
> Although I was talking with a reader yesterday about varying povs in this series, bringing Abram's voice into this was quite accidental. I just felt like listening in to a baddy's thoughts for a change. It adds a different rhythm here and I found it helped to get me back in the groove.
> 
> Oh! I'm really excited about BRZRKR too! I love the pages I've seen over at Bleeding Cool. Love that red...hee hee.
> 
> But now back to Russia...

Abram Tarasov placed one foot down on the ground of his birth and subsequently spit onto it in greeting.

He had had no urge to return to a Moscow now so greatly changed from what he had once known. The Soviet Union where he had lived and which he had cherished had been destroyed, this new Russia seemingly planted the heel of its cursedly cold shoe into its back and dug it into the ground, like a high priced protitutka stamping out her discarded cigarette.

Memories still lingered of its former glory, a place where his brother Viggo and he had experienced much of their youth and built many of the characteristics they had taken with them to America.

Their father had given them each their fortune to be made, starting them off with a 5000 rubles a piece and then shipping them off to a country he had idolized to find themselves. The instructions had been simple: the first to turn their "gift" into a million US dollars would inherit all that he had, as well as the blessing of something he had often referred to simply as "The Table".

The brothers had agreed to this, for what their father said was the law in their lives and his rules were always abided if not admired. Abram could still recall them glancing at each other in their father's office, two teenagers, their hands folded in front of their lean bodies as only their eyes moved to acknowledge the other and the amicable battle that had been set down between them by their own father. The look was one of good natured competitiveness for it could only ever be that when you saw yourself as the victor and your own brother as the loser.

Both Tarasovs had travelled to New York City, two pilgrims far too late to be welcomed to the new country, and set about defeating the other.

While Abram, the eldest, had fixed his attention on what he understood, cars, theft and selling, Viggo had held loftier more _daring_ ambitions. He had taken his 5000 rubles and at first bet with it. His luck was enough to astound even his older brother, until he had learned that the games his brother had bet on were fixed by his own hand, having had the sense to travel with some companions from their birthland, companions of brutality and guile.

They had come in handy but then Viggo had always possessed an eye for those whom were strong and could be used.

As the years passed, Viggo Tarasov had secured his wealth and position, making his money multiply by any means necessary, until by the time their father was dead and ashes, he had already met the set limit to win the entire heritance five times over.

Outwardly, Abram had been the portrait of a good loser, congratulating his younger brother for a victory well earned. However, secretly, he had bristled in sibling rivalry that his brother had bested him, a far more experienced, superior man and Alpha.

So it was with a certain gloating that he had paid his respects at the funeral of Viggo's wife of fifteen solid years several years later.

It was at the same mournful and somber event where Abram Tarasov had been introduced to Viggo's new bodyguard: a man known as John Wick.

The Baba Yaga, as Viggo and everyone else had begun to call him.

John Wick was an Alpha, both intimidating and strikingly beautiful, but quiet, aloof and alone in a room full of others all putting on a false show of mourning for a woman whom had been nothing more than an attractive and cultured bitch, wasting the earth's good air while she had been living. Abram found out the reason for the man's strange calm only later, sharing a bottle of vodka with his little brother. "John's name was once Jovonovich," Viggo had informed, pouring another shot and managing to get two thirds into the target.

"Jovonovich?" Abram had said. "Jardani Jovonovich's son?"

"The one and only," Viggo had said swallowing the entire contents of his glass with a quick and gleeful smile.

Jardani Igor Jovonvich had been an exiled king, forced to head a Ruska Roma tribe. The man had had bravery in spades but no common sense worth the balls on a mule. He had tried to take the Elder on and failed.

The eldest Tarasov child had considered all this and nodded, swigging his own vodka. It made sense then for the Baba Yaga's frightening reputation. Only a man whom bore such a legacy of death and despair could likewise unleash it back on the world. Pain begat pain as death begat death and the orphaned Jovonovich had been made into a tool to deal out both.

The knowledge had made him uneasy however. That his younger brother had willingly let such a beast into his very house seemed foolish. Abram wondered, the vidka scorching his throat on its way down to a queasy stomach, how long it would take for Viggo's guard dog to turn on him as well, the curse of the Jovanovichs taking him down also.

When the news came that John Wick had wiped out all of Viggo Tarasov's competition (save his older brother, mercifully) in order to be set free to marry a photographer named Helen, Abram had let out a silent and most secret sigh of relief. Better that a mad dog be set out to the country to gnash its teeth than set it in the house of Tarasov.

However, existence proved itself as merciless as ever in its humor by taking the photographer away and sending poor Viggo an idiot for a son.

John Wick had come to destroy Viggo just as Abram had feared but he, deemed as unimportant as always with his miserable chop shop, had been allowed to live.

Over time, gratitude for the Baba Yaga having spared him had slowly turned to irrational resentment that he had been once again considered unimportant and unthreatening in somebody's eyes.

Just as in his father's eyes at the moment of the bastard's death.

Hearing tales of how the Elder had not forgiven Wick's insubordination for not killing Winston, Abram Tarasov had comforted himself that the assassin's days were numbered, at least.

But as the days progressed, turning gradually into a year that the older man had suffered alone, no one left to turn to in the city where once Ivan Tarasov had sent his two children, Viggo realized that his family had been stolen.

So when the news had likewise reached him that John Wick's mate had been kidnapped and that she was soon to be executed, bearing the only child of the Baba Yaga, he had felt no remorse but toasted the Elder instead.

It was a toast which soon had ended when the information had quickly spread that John Wick had managed to save his Omega along with not only one of his children but two, while simultaneously killing his enemy and garnering the title of Elder for himself.

The glass used to toast the former Elder had been thrown into the fireplace where it had smashed against the bricks at the back, its contents making the fire flare and burn a little brighter for a few miserable seconds.

In the flames, however, mimicking the heat of his own wrath and bitter frustration, Viggo had seen one perfect chance for revenge: the chance to take from John Wick his own beloved family and leave him lost and lonely while still alive.

Now in Moscow, looking around at his surroundings, his carefully assembled group of assassins ready round about him, and remembering the heat of the flames and his own fiery need for retribution, Abram Tarasov wished only one thing...

That Jardani Jovonovich had chosen a far more reasonable climate, like fucking Hawaii, for his damned wedding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Keanu;
> 
> Happy Groundhog Day, fine sir! Although, over there in LA it won't be Groundhog Day quite yet...
> 
> What should my note be for you today?
> 
> How about a suggestion? Want to be sure of having one of your movies watched every year? Find an obscure holiday and make a film out of it. Of course, I reference Harold Ramis' "Groundhog Day". I usually watch it every year (not this year though) and end up...
> 
> Depressed.
> 
> Let's get into that a little...
> 
> We'll start off with the fact that this is the film that ended Harold's friendship with Bill Murray. It became so bad between them, that during filming, Harold grabbed Bill by the shoulders and rammed him up against the wall. See, his soon to be former friend said something that has never been revealed. I have my thoughts about that...what's so bad you could never even mention it to the daughter whom knew you fathered a love child with another famous director? 
> 
> Who you gonna call? 
> 
> Who made a call to someone once...
> 
> Harold.
> 
> But back to that riff between the director and the star.
> 
> I can't blame Bill Murray. He gets a lot of flack from fans but I heard that at the time GD was made Bill was going through a divorce. Harold didn't want to put up with his calls late at night so he deflected him off on to the writer: Danny Rubin. Now Danny has stated that Murray wished for the film to be philosophical while Ramis preferred the comedy aspect. That was what caused the fights on set, in part.
> 
> But what happened when it was released? It was praised for its spiritual insights and Harold Ramis took the bows. Can you imagine what that would be like for Bill Murray whom fought for that very thing? And you can tell it was Bill's leaning. He did Razor's Edge, after all, and was ridiculed for it. So, of course, he'd be pissed off and break ties when he saw the man he had to fight for it taking all the credit.
> 
> But that was Harold's problem. He was horribly insecure, being the second son in a Jewish family. He even referenced it in relation to his own second son once: that need for attention.
> 
> You can see it plainly in evidence on the "Ghostbusters" commentary. Harold takes credit for almost anything he can. The worst one is possibly when he tries to take partial credit for the discussion between Ray and Winston about God, Jesus and the Bible. I mean, around the time, Harold's on video saying that he was glad the film didn't include spirituality! So I doubt that was him.
> 
> But Harold needed that: the accolades and approval. That's what breaks my heart about GD...you can see that insecurity out in full force if you look closely enough.
> 
> Phil eventually becomes this guy whom can virtually do it all, please everyone and is viewed and adored as a hero by the town. But what about the next day? Rita fell in love with some superhero; so did the town. What about when he can't do it all and won't know what happens next?
> 
> So, I ask myself this whenever I watch it: philosophical piece or secret narcissistic wish fulfillment?
> 
> It *should* be a feel good movie but it always leaves me feeling sad and unsatisfied. All I can see is a man whom thought he had to be good at everything and become some perfect Superman. But we are each divinely imperfect. 
> 
> For me, it should have ended with Phil lying in bed with Rita, that night they shared when he was vulnerable and human. His request that she stay with him, those words he says to her while she sleeps (which are the words I vehemently wish would have been written for me), his love for her and his confession to being less than what he's always thought and presented himself to be... 
> 
> He is never more saved from himself than in that moment of admitting he needs to be saved.
> 
> I heard you say once that you are insecure.
> 
> Keanu, since I never got the chance to say this to Harold Ramis, can I say it to you now since you might need it more?
> 
> Please never think you need to be anything other than what you are...which is perfect to me, Keanu Reeves.
> 
> Or maybe I should take this moment to say to you (admittedly paraphrased) that which I wish would be said to me one day. 
> 
> There's frost on my window here but I doubt there is any on yours 2746 miles away. I'm in bed but you probably aren't. And if you are, I take it you probably aren't alone. So take these words and keep them secret and don't let her over hear them, okay?
> 
> I think you're the kindest, sweetest, greatest person I've never met in my life. I've never seen anyone that's nicer to people than you are. The two hundredth time or so that I saw you... something happened to me. I've told you in many words but not these ones but... I knew that I wanted to hold you as hard as I could. I don't deserve someone like you. But if I ever could, I swear I would love you for the rest of my life.
> 
> Good night
> 
> Much love,  
> Erin  
> XO XO  
> :D <3


End file.
